(This
is a work of fiction, depicting sex between consenting adult males.
If such offends you or is illegal for you to read where you live, or
you are under the age of eighteen, please leave now. No actual
persons or events are depicted. Safe sexual practices are not used,
but remember, this is fiction; in real life, get tested and play
safe. We hope you enjoy the story. We can be contacted at
PapaWereBear69@yahoo.com
and UrsusMajr@makaw.net )

Chapter
11

Sam
pulled into the lot of a "Thrifty Traveler Motel". Both of
them were pretty tired, and Sam checked them into a room with a
single queen sized bed. It wasn't luxurious, but it was clean,
available and somewhat anonymous. They'd stopped at a diner earlier
and Mack was well fed and ready to get into bed with Sam. After
having ridden behind Sam all day long, holding on to his beefy body,
bathing in his ursine scent and enjoying the pleasurable vibration
from the Hawg, Mack wanted to make love with Sam, but he also wanted
sleep. His muscles were sore, he'd never ridden on a motorcycle
before and didn't realize that moving with his partner on the bike
would be such work. On the way to the room, Sam quickly groped
Mack's ass and Mack reached back and groped Sam's. Mack found he
wanted sex, but he wanted sleep more. They stripped and crawled into
bed, Sam curling protectively around Mack.

Ronnie
Hicks and Jimmy Banner slouched in Jim's car, half in the bag and
pissed as hell. The two women who had seemed so hot to trot in the
bar two hours ago had obviously stood them up. Their anger simmered
as they passed the bottle back and forth between them. Ronnie
watched as Sam and Mack walked across the parking lot from the motel
office to their room. He saw Sam fumble for the key and drop it, and
Mack pick it up and hand it to the larger man. He saw the larger man
give the younger one a hug and a kiss as he fitted the key to the
lock and opened the door.

Ronnie
nudged Jimmy. "We got us some faggots here, Jimmy-boy."

"Yeah,"
Jimmy said, "but did you see the size of the big one? Daaaamn!”
He took another swig out of the bottle. “Hey, why don't we
wait a bit for them to get good and asleep and then kick the door in.
Surprise 'em, like. Scare the crap outta 'em."

"Oh,
I think I wanna do more than just scare the crap outta them fuckin'
faggots. I got me a baseball bat and I wanna put some hurt on 'em."
Ronnie said.

"I
dunno," Jimmy said and took another swig from the bottle of JD,
"that big guy looks... big. Maybe jest scare 'em.”

"What
the fuck, Jimmy!” Ronnie waved the bottle around a bit
unsteadily. “He's a fuckin fag! He might look bad ass, but
he's not a real man, not like us. There's two of us and one of him
and the little fag will probably go hide in the closet... heh heh
heh, hide in the closet! He'll wish he never came out of it!"

"OK
then, we'll wait 'til they're asleep, then we'll kick the shit out of
some faggot ass. You still got them brass knuckles you take to biker
bars?" Jimmy asked.

"Sure
do, look in the glove box." Ronnie said and took the bottle of
JD for a swallow.

Jimmy
looked in the box, rifled through and found the brass knuckles and
put them on. It was just after 12:30 am by the dashboard clock.
“Faggot bashing is 'bout as good as pussy, I reckon,”
Ronnie muttered as the pair waited.

Sam
woke to the sound of the door being kicked. Whoever did it wasn't
expecting the dead bolt to be as sturdy as
it was and didn't know much about kicking doors down. Mack was
awake, too. "What's going on?"

"Get
into the bathroom and lock the door, take your clothes and get
dressed." Sam said calmly.

Mack
started to protest; after all, he was a man and was going to 'watch
Sam's back'. Sam didn't have time to explain as the second kick came
to the door. It looked like the cheap frame of the door had cracked
and might give way with another kick. Naked, Sam grabbed his leather
jacket, wrapped it around his arm and said to Mack in a low voice,
"Whoever that is could have a weapon, I need you to be ready to
run if I say so. Get dressed!"

Mack
retreated into the bathroom with his clothes. He didn't like it, but
somehow, he found it hard to disobey his papa.

Sam
stood by the door waiting, the third kick came and the door flew
open. Whoever it was didn't enter immediately. Sam had shifted a
little, it would give him a distinct advantage.

He
saw the shadow of a man cast on the carpet of the room by the light
in the parking lot. Sam guessed he was probably about 6 foot or so
by way he filled the door frame. Sam saw
the outline of a baseball bat.

He
could hear that the speech was a bit slurred, "Goooood!"
Sam thought. "Drunk redneck!"

Sam
watched as the man moved toward the door frame.
He would remain still and wait until the last moment to strike,
using surprise to his advantage. Sam watched as the baseball bat
entered first through the door, waited until it was almost all the
way through, and then he moved. With the furry arm not covered with
his leather jacket, Sam grabbed the bat and yanked, pulling the man
into the room. Quickly he pushed the man to the floor, face down.
He put a knee on the man's elbow and pulled his forearm
up. There was a sickening snap as Sam broke the man's arm at the
elbow joint. The man shrieked in pain. Two things happened then;
the door to the bathroom opened and Mack jumped out brandishing the
shower curtain rod like a spear, and behind him Sam heard the second
man curse and move. Sam swiveled and caught the arm of the second
man as he was about to land a fist in the side of his head. Sam was
still kneeling on the first man's arm. He still had the bat in one
hand and his leather wrapped arm was holding the brass knuckled fist
of the second man. Sam swung the aluminum baseball bat and cracked
the second man's knee. He crumpled to the floor, screaming in pain
as well. Mack stood frozen, astonished.

It
all happened so fast ... and Sam looked... different. Sam
stood and kicked both of the prone men in the nuts and growled as
they curled into fetal position.

Sam
growled again in a slightly deeper voice, "Get your backpack and
suitcase, we're outta here." Sam grabbed the lamps from the
night stand, unplugged them and cut the electric cords while his
would-be assailants writhed in pain. He
tied their hands behind their backs and stuffed them halfway under
the beds so they couldn't move. Sam dressed quickly and soon he and
Mack were on his bike. They were a good ten minutes down the road
when the sheriff showed up at the motel and
found the two men partially under the bed.

Sheriff
Tom Wilson surveyed the scene; two local boys, known to be trouble
when drunk, were trussed up and stuffed under the bed where they
couldn't move. The door had been kicked in and whoever had been in
the motel had made a hasty exit. No doubt about it, the guy who had
done this knew quite a bit about self defense.
The motel manager had called the sheriff;
he'd said these two guys were trying to break into one of the guest
rooms.

Ronnie
was moaning in pain.

"What's
the story, Ronnie?" Tom asked.

Ronnie
moaned, "Fucking A, man! My arm's broke. Untie me, man."

"Oh,
I can't do that Ronnie, you just said your arm was broke and I don't
wanna make it worse by movin' you around. We'll have to wait for the
paramedics." Tom said, "So, you decided to rob a couple of
patrons of this fine establishment?"

"Fuck,
no!" Ronnie said and winced in pain as he'd jerked his head up
to look at the sheriff, "They was two
faggots and I was gonna show 'em we don't tolerate their kind around
here."

Sheriff
Wilson laughed, "Yeah, you showed 'em. Looks like you picked on
the wrong fags. Looks like they beat the shit out of you manly men.
We're gonna get you and Jimmy to the emergency room, looks like that
'fag' broke his kneecap."

"I
wanna press charges!" Ronnie said.

"Well
you're not the only one, pal. The motel manager wants to press
charges, too. Against you. And you can forget about filing charges
against those guys, Ronnie, you broke into their room.
They had a right to self defense. You're gonna be lucky if they
don't come back and add to the charges the motel manager is gonna
file. As soon as the docs patch you and Jimmy up, we're gonna book
ya."

The
paramedics arrived just as sheriff Wilson
was finishing his little talk. "You just cost me about three
hours of paperwork, Ronnie, and you know how I love
paperwork." The sheriff patted Ronnie on his left shoulder and
he cried out in agony. "Oh, sorry Ronnie, I plum forgot."

Miles
down the road, Mack and Sam were riding on the highway in the cool of
the desert night. Sam put in a good fifty miles before he stopped at
a rest stop. They pulled in and dismounted, they both used the
facilities, not a word exchanged. As they walked out, Mack said, "I
need to talk to you. I need answers."